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1210 Sophia Street – Can it be Saved?

By HFFI Staff

1210 Sophia Street is in danger of being demolished. If the clock runs out—it will be gone. But there is a chance to relocate this 100+ year old property to a new location. YOU can help save it!

1210 Sophia Street – Photo Credit: Fredericksburg City Staff

Located within Fredericksburg’s Downtown Historic District, 1210 Sophia Street is a contributing resource. This modest building, situated along the Rappahannock River, is an example of housing used by Fredericksburg’s working class residents at the turn of the twentieth century. It is in good condition and structurally sound, but the only option besides demolition is relocation.

The City of Fredericksburg has offered up to $20,000 to aid in the costs of moving the house to an open lot within the city, but no matter of its location it will remain under the purview of the city’s Architectural Review Board and the city’s historic district overlay. But there is a deadline, so don’t delay! Help us get the word out, and this 1890’s house may once again be called a home.

Built in 1894, this two-story house was built for Gilbert C. Walker, an iron worker, and it remained in the Walker family for almost 100 years. The rear addition was added in 1953, (identified through an independent archive of city records), and Sanborn Maps as well as census records round out the history of the house and its residents. (Special thanks to Kate Schwartz, Historic Resource Planner—City of Fredericksburg, for her efforts in researching the history of this home. – Read more about the history of this home here.)

1210 Sophia Street Interior – Photo Credit: Fredericksburg City Staff

Do you own a lot that this building could be moved to? Or perhaps you know someone who does? This is a chance for us to save a historic building from demolition, and HFFI is happy to see the city contributing funds from the Blight Abatement Fund to assist in the project.

Wet or Dry: A History of Prohibition in Fredericksburg

By Barbra Anderson

“The saloon is the devil’s headquarters on earth,” declared the Anti-Saloon League in the late 1800s. Alcohol was blamed for every social problem: poverty, domestic violence, crime, ill health, and moral turpitude. The average American man drank 88 bottles of whiskey a year—three times as much as now.

Temperance groups swept the nation. Each member had to take a pledge against “any Spirituous or Malt beverage.” Fredericksburg had three chapters of the Sons of Temperance, which held rallies and parades, weekly meetings, and “grand excursions” to inspire the citizens. Not only did temperance influence the social scene, the “liquor platform” soon dictated state politics.

Prohibition came early to Virginia. In 1886, the General Assembly passed the “local option,” which let each county vote to ban alcohol or not. In May 1908, the people of Fredericksburg voted in a referendum to “go dry,” with 53 percent of the vote. Two years later, the “wets” petitioned for another vote, which was signed by 180 citizens, including the town’s biggest saloon owners. The Daily Star proclaimed that “the city is unquestionably better off than ever in its history,” and that “business had in no way been injured by elimination of the saloon.” The 1910 referendum reaffirmed the dry vote by an even bigger margin. However, enforcement of the law proved problematic. In 1911, Fredericksburg convened a special Grand Jury to investigate allegations of Prohibition violations. The jury of prominent citizens trumpeted, perhaps too heartily, that “there is no evidence whatever, much less proof, that there is any violation of the revenue laws.” The panel was, however, very concerned about the crowds that congregated at several corners around town, many located near former saloons.

All of Virginia went dry in 1916, and the 18th Amendment enacted national Prohibition in 1920.

By the mid-1920s, Prohibition violations in Fredericksburg became commonplace. Because Route 1 was the only paved road in the area, bootleggers used it to transport “ardent spirits.” Local reporter Warren Farmer described how local police would hide next to the bridges and catch them as they came into town. One rumrunner crashed going around Deadman’s Curve near the National Cemetery. The liquor caught on fire, and he was incinerated beyond recognition.

Because bootleggers often used aliases, the ensuing court cases frequently named the car as the defendant. In 1926, “Virginia vs. Packard Touring Car” involved the transport of 210 gallons of corn whiskey. The penalties were stiff. In another case, two brothers-in-law were convicted for transporting 48 quarts of liquor in their car. Each was fined $50 and given a sentence of 6 months. Moreover, as dictated by law, their car was confiscated and sold.

Because bootlegged liquor was hard to get, some Fredericksburgers tried alternatives:

“Vine-Glo” was a concentrated grape juice product. Instructions said to dissolve it in water, but warned “Do not place the liquid in a jug away in the cupboard for 20 days, because then it would turn to wine.”

Doctors could prescribe medicinal liquor for 27 ailments—including cancer, diabetes, and depression—up to one pint every 10 days. Each doctor could write up to 100 liquor prescriptions per month.

Some tried to make their own liquor, although it could blind, sicken, or even kill a person if not properly processed. Makers of “bathtub gin” converted denatured alcohol to a drinkable form, but the process is prone to both chemical and bacterial mishaps.

According to court and police records, many people were arrested for alcohol offenses. A sampling from the newspapers of the day reveals some colorful characters. “Poodles” Limerick was charged for transporting liquor at the Virginia Cafe. Albert Grimes was fined $20 for being drunk and carrying a concealed weapon (iron knuckles) at the Athens Hotel. Yat Sullivan was convicted of manufacturing and selling liquor. He was fined $250 (about 2 month’s salary) and sentenced to 3 months in jail. “Dinksy” Scott was arrested three times for “unlawfully and feloniously selling ardent spirits.”

Dedicated drinkers had to know where to look to find liquor in Fredericksburg. Like drug dealers today, certain men on certain corners could be relied on to get a bottle. At a nearby country store, people asking for a “pair of size eight shoes” would receive a discreetly wrapped package. Others went straight to the top, such as the reporter who claimed that the best whiskey he drank was served by a local judge.

Although the term “speakeasy” is not used in court records, there were several establishments in town whose patrons were arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct. The Virginia Cafe, the Athens Hotel, and the A-1 Cafe, all located on Caroline Street, were well known for their rowdy customers. The owner of the Fredericksburg Cafe was charged with allowing drinking and gambling and running a “disorderly house,” perhaps the legal term for speakeasy.

Prohibition was repealed in 1933, but selling liquor in Virginia did not become legal until 1934 when the state established the Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control (ABC). In the first month, the ABC granted Fredericksburg 14 licenses to sell beer and wine. The ABC maintained strict control of alcohol throughout the remainder of the century, gradually easing some restrictions. For example, it was not for another 35 years that liquor was sold by the drink. Cocktails were illegal unless you belonged to a “social club” where you would bring your own liquor. On February 9, 1969, the first mixed drink in Fredericksburg—a Tom Collins- was sold at the Princess Anne Inn.

To celebrate the 100th anniversary of Prohibition in Virginia, the Historic Fredericksburg Foundation hosted a Prohibition Pub Tour on Saturday, September 10, 2016.

Much thanks to Nancy Moore and Sue Stone for providing most of the research for this story.

A Lesson in the Benefits of Restoration: St. George’s Episcopal Church

By Sam Biggers

As we celebrate Historic Preservation this May, it is worth remembering the benefits Fredericksburg has seen from the preservation of our built heritage. There are numerous preservation success stories, and one need not look far to see the benefits of preservation in our community. One of the most prominent buildings in Fredericksburg, St. George’s Episcopal Church, is a superb example of the positive effects of preservation. In 2009, St. George’s completed a seven-year restoration project, restoring the interior to its former glory. Though the official project lasted seven years, efforts to preserve the church have been ongoing since the late 1990s.

St. George’s Episcopal Church can lay claim to having a church on their lot for almost as long as Fredericksburg has existed. The current 1849 church is the third on the site, and was built as the congregation grew immensely during the 1830s and 1840s. The church was built in 1849 in the Romanesque Revival style, with decoration an obvious aim. Though it is not clear if decorative paint was present when the church was built, it existed sometime before 1894, when an account lamented that “a good deal of the frescoing was peeling off.”

It appears that the issue of peeling decorative paint was rectified in 1906, when a renovation sought to accentuate the interior of the church through new decorative paint. An article in The Free Lance from November 1st, 1906, describing these changes, reads:

“It would be difficult for any one not an artist to describe the improvements that have recently been completed in St. George’s Episcopal church.

The entire vestibule has been tiled with grey and brown tiles, and its walls have been tinted a very deep cream color, while the celling has been finished in small rolled iron squares.

The body of the church has been frescoed throughout. The wainscoting is a Nile green, the walls the yellow green now the favorite color of some of the principal church decorators in the country. The ceiling has been smoothed into broad panels by the campo board and tinted in delicate green with gold borders. The divisions between wainscoting and walls are marked by dotted bands old rose, and the overhead sides, above the gallery and under the cornices with a deep border of intricate cross design.

The arches are centered with medallions in which the symbols of the name of our Lord are wrought in gold.

The chancel (1) has its memorial window blended in one group by diaper work (2), and on each side are the Easter lilies in faces. The general effect of the color scheme is quiet and restful to the eye, not elaborate or ornate, but wrought out in exquisite taste by the artist, G.M. Strueby, of Washington.”

A series of renovations from the 1920s to the 1950s eliminated much of the interior decoration of St. George’s. The decorative paint, which had served to beautify the church for almost a century, was painted over in favor of a stark white color. Whereas the 1906 renovation’s goal was “putting the Church in order and the beautifying [of] the Church,” less than twenty years later much of the decorative paint was removed. A 1954 renovation removed the intricate wood paneling on the wall behind the alter, believed to be original to the 1849 building.

The wood paneling, original to the 1849 church, shown here during its restoration. Circa 2000.

By the 1990s, the interior of St. George’s was a shadow of its former self. Recognizing this, the church began the process of returning the interior of the church to an appearance comparable to its original 1849 look. One of the first charges of the restoration effort was the reinstallation of the historic wood paneling. Still in storage since their removal in 1954, the church hired Mark Moyers, a local wood restoration expert, to restore, assemble, and install the paneling. For four months, Moyers painstakingly refinished and assembled the more than 1,500 pieces of wood that comprised the paneling. Following their reinstallation, the church began its seven-year restoration effort.

When St. George’s undertook the restoration project, the church understood that planning would be crucial before changes were to be made. The church recognized their building’s rich history, and made the preservation and commemoration of it central to the restoration plan. Changes to paint in the nave (1) from the 1920s to the 1950s had left the interior whitewashed, eliminating much of the original decorative paint. The discovery of a 1906 photograph served as the basis for the reapplication of the decorative paint. The 1906 picture was taken during a renovation whose aim was very similar to the one undertaken in 2002—to recapture the church’s former interior appearance.

The aim of the restoration was not to return the church’s interior to a single point in the past. Rather, the restoration attempted to upgrade the church with a strong understanding of the history of the interior. Much of the interior decorative paint had been lost, and despite having the 1906 photograph as a record of what existed, the church chose not to replicate the lost paint. Instead of reapplying paint motifs visible in the 1906 picture during the new restoration, they instead moved them to the vestibule. The new motifs for the interior were chosen because of their symbolic ties to the Episcopal Church. The use of new paint motifs gave reference to the church’s rich decorative past, while moving the church forward with a modern design.

The addition of decorative paint was complemented by the installation of improved lighting to transform the nave and chancel areas (1). Additionally, the church updated crucial infrastructure, including electrical wiring, handicap accessibility, and fire suppression. While the restoration project was projected to cost $4 million, the church utilized Virginia Historic Rehabilitation Tax Credits, which allowed the church to finish under budget. The seven-year restoration effort by St. George’s Episcopal Church resulted in a completely transformed interior. The picture below perfectly summarizes the changes in the church’s interior. The story of St. George’s is a common one in Fredericksburg— renovations completed with a view to the past.

“Diaper is any of a wide range of decorative patterns used in a variety of works of art, such as stained glass, heraldic shields, architecture, and silverwork. Its chief use is in the enlivening of plain surfaces.” – Wikipedia

Oh Hear That Train Whistle Blowin’

By Olivia R. Blackwell

Puffs of smoke billowed up from the engine toward the sky and a cheering crowd gathered around the train as it came to a rumbling stop. It seemed as though everyone in town was gathered at the station, eagerly awaiting the door to open. It was October 23, 1886, and President Grover Cleveland stepped off the train to greet the citizens of Fredericksburg.(1) Only two decades prior, the North and South battled over this rail line chartered by the Richmond, Fredericksburg and Potomac Railroad (RF&P). The line that ran through Fredericksburg sat on a strategic point during the Civil War, with both armies laying track to move supplies and then burning it after it was no longer needed. President Cleveland’s stop in Fredericksburg was welcomed by all that day and over 100 years later Fredericksburg came together again to welcome another train’s arrival.

1926 construction of the train bridge across the Rappahannock River.

The turn of the century was the beginning of an exciting new era for train travel in Fredericksburg. Built in 1910 by the RF&P, the Georgian Colonial style train station was a gem standing proudly downtown on what was then known as Prussia Street. The street name paid tribute to the German State of Prussia, which was ruled by Frederick William I in the early 1700s. However, Anti-German sentiment took over when the U.S. entered World War I in 1917 and Fredericksburg demanded a change. City Council voted to rename the street Lafayette Boulevard in 1918, honoring Marquis de Lafayette.(2) A friend of George Washington, Lafayette fought alongside the United States during the Revolutionary War. In 1907, an additional set of tracks connecting Washington, D.C. and Richmond was completed by the RF&P, though Fredericksburg would not join the line until 1927.(3) Along with the new tracks, the bridge over the Rappahannock was finally replaced in 1927.(3) With these additions, the bustling station needed more room to grow. On May 1st, 1927, the citizens of Fredericksburg celebrated the arrival of their new train station; additional wings and a raised platform allowed the station to handle the increased traffic.(3)

The train proved to be a vital asset during wartime. The government relied on the RF&P heavily during WWII to move soldiers and supplies, so much so that traffic on the rails at this time was at its highest point in RF&P history.(3) After the war was won and soldiers returned home, the automobile quickly found its way onto America’s growing stretches of roadways. The average American family now owned a car and no longer wanted to sit on a train to get where they needed to go. The station held on for a few more decades, but eventually faded into the background. In December 1976, Amtrak closed the ticket office and the station became unmanned. With only a caretaker on site only on weekdays (locals may remember caretaker Archie Elder), the station soon fell victim to neglect. Paint peeled off of the walls, the roof leaked onto the few passengers who continued to use the station, and dark corridors became a haven for unlawful activity and vandals.

Broken window at Fredericksburg Train Station before renovation.

The first big break in the journey to a rehabilitated station was Amtrak’s allocation of $50,000 for a new passenger platform roof in 1980. Amtrak was confident that the station rehabilitation might not cost as much as originally thought and that no other major work was needed.(4) Work on the roof was to begin in August of that year, but was delayed as the roof, and the riders, would have to wait. During the years that followed, riders were left to defend themselves against both the criminal and decaying structural elements that were making the station an eyesore on the historic downtown. To make matters worse, the station was not regularly inspected. In order to be inspected, the city had to declare it unsafe. To answer the public safety outcry, Amtrak and the RF&P teamed up with local police in 1988 to patrol the station daily.(5) The patrols were a success, but the floors were still crumbling, graffiti covered the walls, and corridors remained dark at night.

In June 1989, RF&P and Amtrak put an additional $200,000 toward the rehabilitation effort. These funds were only allocated to cover the bare bones of the building. The leaking roof, crumbling concrete, broken lights and windows would be fixed, but all cosmetic needs would have to wait.(6) Both the RF&P and Amtrak’s initial plans for the rehabilitation of the station did not comply with the city’s regulations for the renovation of a building in the historic district. The Architectural Review Board refused to permit the changes both companies proposed for the station, due to alterations such as removal of the original canopies over the passenger platforms and installation of modern glass shelters.(7) The RF&P claimed that they were not familiar with regulations for buildings in historical districts when they made their initial plan.(7)

Interior photo of the Fredericksburg Train Station before renovation.

Throughout the 1980s and 90s, the Historic Fredericksburg Foundation, Inc. regularly advocated on behalf of the Fredericksburg train station. HFFI worked with city entities, ranging from City Council to the Architectural Review Board, to gather support and momentum for the preservation and rehabilitation of the station. The Foundation stressed rehabilitation and staying true to the historic design of the building, as opposed to a complete overhaul and modern redesign. HFFI was not only concerned with conserving the historical integrity of the building, but was also worried about the growing safety threat the decaying station had on the downtown community. Train riders and City Council members alike were eager to say goodbye to the crumbling train station and the dangers that came along with it. However, getting Amtrak, the RF&P, and local entities to agree on a deal to bring the Fredericksburg train station back to life would prove to be more difficult than any party imagined.

During this same time period, the RF&P reviewed the possibilities of turning the train station into a bustling center of commerce and downtown tourism; retail and factory outlet stores and tour coaches.(8) However, the RF&P was never able to negotiate a deal for redeveloping the station for retail. With no plans in place, the station continued to decay. Members of City Council grew impatient and made their voices heard. In the winter of 1989 Councilman Robert C. Wheeler referenced the large amount of money the RF&P spent on rail facilities in Richmond and Northern Virginia and urged the RF&P that it was time to invest in Fredericksburg.(9) Councilman H. William Greenup said it was “high time” that the station get restored and pressed for a time frame to hold all parties accountable.(8) Former Councilman W. Sidney Armstrong was disillusioned with the project, telling TheFree Lance-Star in January, “I’m not sure there will ever be a whole lot done.”(9)

When work on the passenger platform roof finally started in 1990, things got off to a slow and frustrating start. After Amtrak and the RF&P removed the roof, work slowed to a halt. Upon spending roughly $65,000 on asbestos removal and setting aside another $135,000 for stabilizing the platform, both companies wanted to trim costs. (10) They hired inexpensive labor and sourced volunteer work from the community, to even include new cornice work done by a James Monroe High School shop class. Riders were still able to use the station during this time, but unfortunately, there was no roof to protect them from the elements. Councilman Gordon W. Shelton told The Free Lance-Star, “Stupidity tore the roof off before they had a plan in place.”(11)

Volunteers donate their time to bring the neglected Fredericksburg Train Station back to its previous glory.

The Virginia Railway Express (VRE) commuter rail was another issue hanging in the balance in 1990. City Council approval of a line through the town meant more riders and increased cooperation from Amtrak and RF&P to invest in Fredericksburg’s historic station.(10) Though downtown citizens, HFFI, and city entities were eager to bring more visitors to their historic town and revitalize the area, there were still concerns to be had, given the companies’ reluctance to fully support the station’s continued use. Chief among them, parking and traffic, which had to be carefully planned for and accommodated without significantly changing the character of the area.(12) To help fund the project, the city started collecting a 2% tax on gasoline in August 1990. By September 1991, the tax raised $800,000 for the city to put toward construction costs.

In early 1992, things were finally starting to look up. The Architectural Review Board had approved a design for a new VRE passenger platform adjacent to the old station and the first commuter train was scheduled to arrive in town June of that year.(13) Executive Director of HFFI, Catharine Gilliam, was pleased with the plan, which included new windows and lights in the passenger shelter that reflected the original design. Unfortunately, the initial bids on the project came in $350,000 too high, forcing the city to take a step back.(14) The platform design was revised, and work got off to a late start in April 1992. Construction crews worked around the clock during the weekend leading up to the opening of the station. The new VRE platform had ticket machines and was handicap accessible. On July 20, 1992, excited commuters left on the first VRE train out of Fredericksburg at 5:29 a.m.(15)

Though this was a hard-fought victory for Fredericksburg, both HFFI and citizens still hoped that something would be done with the old station across from the new VRE line. In 1992 the city submitted a proposal seeking federal grant money to aid in the rehabilitation of the station.(16) With $500,000 eventually awarded from the federal government to use on the rehabilitation, Fredericksburg was ready to make their station dreams a reality. Three years later, the station finally had a buyer. Business owners Gary and Catherine Musselman moved to Virginia in the early 1990s to find the old station in a sorry state. Inspired by the building’s history and potential, they signed a deal to buy it from the RF&P in 1995.(17) Joined by restaurant owner Claiborne Thomasson, the three put one million dollars toward the project, in addition to the $500,000 federal grant, and got to work.(18) Claiborne’s opened in October 1997 to great acclaim, ushering in a new era of fine dining in Fredericksburg, and breathing new life into the train station.

Today, the train station is once again the pride of Fredericksburg. Serving 117,423 riders annually, the station is a hive of activity in the historic downtown.(19) The station connects Richmond, Fredericksburg, and Washington, D.C., giving commuters and travelers alike an alternative to the gridlock on Interstate 95. Amtrak runs six trains through the station daily. Weary train riders searching for a bite to eat need not look far. The Bavarian Chef, a restaurant specializing in authentic German cuisine, is housed in the interior of the old train station. Although Fredericksburg Amtrak train riders can no longer buy a ticket to their destination at the old station, they can still admire the historic building and hear the train whistle blow as it rolls into town.

Sources

A young helper does his part during an HFFI volunteer clean-up day at the Fredericksburg Train Station

Pearce, John N. and students. “Gateway and Focal Point: Preservation Planning for Fredericksburg’s RF&P Station and for the Area Adjacent to it.” Mary Washington College Department of Historical Preservation, 1987.